


The Final Frontier

by deltatime



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Zero-gravity sex, haha WHY AM I LIKE THIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29697726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltatime/pseuds/deltatime
Summary: John’s kink had always been doing things he shouldn’t do.
Relationships: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill/John Sheppard
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	The Final Frontier

John’s kink had always been doing things he shouldn’t do. He’d had ample opportunity to raise the stakes in that regard, these past few years, but _this_ was miles ahead of anything else he’d ever imagined.

Somewhere he shouldn’t be: check. He _had_ checked out the jumper, but the flight plan he’d filed was strictly from Cheyenne Mountain to Area 51. Geosynchronous orbit was a little out of the way, although technically he hadn’t put exact altitudes the whole way through the flight plan so technically he was still en route.

With someone he shouldn’t be with: check and a half. General O’Neill invited himself along on the pretense of wanting to check out the user-friendliness of the latest control interface. John was pretty sure O’Neill hadn’t told anyone else he was going to Area 51, not that O’Neill really needed permission to go anywhere. The real check came from Doctor Jackson, who had knocked on the closed jumper door just as they were getting ready to leave. “I’m borrowing a translation device,” he had told them. “Do they know that?” O’Neill had asked. “Not… yet,” Jackson replied. Who was John to stand in the way of some nice friendly theft between departments?

Doing something he shouldn’t do: absolutely, without a doubt, check times a thousand, in about a hundred different ways.

He was holding O’Neill’s shoulders, providing him an anchor point in the zero-gravity so Jackson could really fuck him. The third person was what really turned zero-grav sex up to eleven, John thought; with two, it was hard to manage all the disparate forces, but with a third, there was someone to hold everyone else in place.

“This what you imagined, Jack?” Daniel asked roughly, every word punctuated with a thrust. He was sheened in sweat; it wouldn’t bead without gravity so the whole expanse of naked skin just looked slick and delicious. He had hooked his legs through the arms of the pilot’s set so he had leverage to push forwards and pull back.

“Oh, God, even better,” O’Neill grunted. He groped blindly behind himself and got a handful of John’s ass. “Wait, Daniel, hold on - Sheppard, flip around, stand on the bulkhead there, yeah, hold my shoulders so Daniel can, oh, fuck, yeah.”

John didn’t really think of himself as a submissive in bed (or while having very illegal sex in kind-of-stolen Air Force property) but being given orders by his superior officer in this situation made his dick throb sharply. He wedged himself between the wall and one of the passenger seats to give himself the best mechanical advantage he could manage. He hadn’t thought of O’Neill as someone who liked it rough, or of Jackson as someone who liked giving it rough, but there were lots of surprises today.

Jackson held O’Neill’s hips tight and drove into him hard, like he had something to prove. John could feel exactly how hard; every pound of force Jackson applied transferred directly to John. He adjusted his knees on the bulkhead to let somewhere a little less sensitive take the brunt of Jackson’s thrusts. He had a bad angle to see the real action, but the way O’Neill’s cock jumped and the slap of skin on skin was more than enough stimulation.

More than enough for Jackson, too - his hips stuttered then he gave three deep, hard thrusts and curled over O’Neill’s body while he came. _That_ was hotter than hell, and John thought he might come just from the audiovisual stimulation, without even a moment’s attention paid to his cock, but the feeling passed as quickly as it came.

Ha. Came.

O’Neill sighed through Jackson’s orgasm and pet his hair. “Couldn’t have held out thirty more seconds?” he teased once Jackson stopped trembling.

“Fuck off, Jack, if you wanted it to last maybe you should have put out more than once in the last week,” Daniel snarked back. “Let John fuck you.”

“Up for it?” O’Neill asked him.

“Yes, sir,” John said, trying for sexy and confident but hitting awestruck and desperate instead.

“You’re not going to last either, are you.”

“No, sir.”

“Fuck him from behind and I’ll suck him,” Jackson suggested. 

John inhaled sharply at the mental picture. “Okay,” he said, pulling at O’Neill’s shoulders and spinning him so they were back-to-front. Jackson pushed off the pilot’s seat a little too enthusiastically and collided with them hard enough to bounce John off the jumper’s wall. “Do we want gravity for this?” John asked.

“Hell, no. If I wanted gravity I wouldn’t have gone to space. Figure it out.” God, O’Neill was pissy when he was sexually frustrated. That was pretty hot, actually, and it served as a good distraction from the pain of hitting the wall.

Jackson made eye contact with John as he mouthed the tip of O’Neill’s dick. John lined himself up and pushed, letting Jackson provide resistance as he sunk into O’Neill and O’Neill sunk into Jackson’s mouth.

There was no leverage to go fast or hard, but John wouldn’t have lasted for that anyway. He ground his hips into O’Neill’s ass as much as he dared with Jackson’s throat on the other end of the equation, letting Jackson have most of the control.

_This_ was doing it for O’Neill; John could feel the little involuntary ripples of muscle contractions just like he was sure Jackson could feel the cock in his mouth swell minutely.

“I’m gonna come, don’t fucking stop,” O’Neill gasped, and sure enough, he clenched on John and arched his back. It was only because _don’t fucking stop_ had so clearly been an order that John managed to not immediately come himself. His knuckles were white on O’Neill’s hips and his thighs trembled with the effort, but John held on while O’Neill moaned and clutched at Jackson’s hair.

John kept up the same rhythm while O’Neill came, focusing on every sensation but the hot clench around his dick. It was excruciating and so, so, so good.

“Thought you said you wouldn’t last, Sheppard,” O’Neill said after John could feel that most of the aftershocks were over.

“Didn’t think I would, sir,” John said through gritted teeth.

“I could give you a medal, or I could just tell you to come, now.”

John’s hips thrust involuntarily, helplessly.

“That’s an order, Colonel,” O’Neill growled.

Maybe the orders were a kink after all, because John convulsed and bucked his hips straight into one of the most brutal orgasms of his life. He felt like he was breaking apart, overwhelmed with the explosive orgasm and the weightlessness. The only points of contact he had with anything at all were his hands on O’Neill’s hips and his cock up O’Neill’s ass; his world narrowed down to just those sensations when his eyes squeezed shut. It was incredible, mindblowing, to literally only feel O’Neill’s body and his own cresting pleasure. There were no sounds other than Jackson and O’Neill’s breathing and his own uncontrollable hitching gasps.

This experience was definitely going to leave him with a kink for sensory deprivation. Great.

He went boneless when it was over, rendered exhausted by the effort he’d expended over the last half hour. Jackson pushed at his hip gently after a minute of stillness; with no gravity, no matter how much he slumped he wasn’t going to disengage from O’Neill without effort. John pulled out slowly.

Maybe they should have used condoms. O’Neill was going to have to land at Area 51 with come inside him. What did Jackson say? _Is this what you imagined?_ O’Neill and Jackson were smart people. If O’Neill planned this and didn’t bring condoms, surely he’d considered the consequences.

“All right, sir?” John said after he had pulled out. 

“Never better, Colonel. Daniel? You bring those wet wipes I asked for?”

Daniel produced a small pack of tissues from a pocket and offered one to John, who used it to clean himself up a little.

“Those don’t look like wet wipes, Daniel.”

“You called me in my office, Jack, and told me to meet you at the jumper in five minutes with an excuse and, and I quote, _the stuff._ Forgive me for not having the exact _stuff_ you wanted in my desk drawer.”

John waved off Daniel’s offer of a second tissue; the pack was tiny and O’Neill needed them more than he did. He tucked himself back in and zipped his pants, then looked around for O’Neill’s pants. They’d floated up to the back corner of the jumper. John reached and snagged the hem of one leg, then passed them to O’Neill. He propelled himself to the pilot’s chair and sat in it as best he could.

By the time he checked on the time and the systems, O’Neill and Jackson were in their seats like nothing had happened. Well, the mussed hair and the red faces and the smell of sex kind of gave away that something did happen, but all that could be fixed before they got to Area 51.

“Ready for gravity?” John asked.

“Ready,” said Jackson and O’Neill at the same time.

John reactivated the artificial gravity, then set them on a course back to the real world.


End file.
